Cally's Sherlock drabbles #2 [81/221] (28 September 2017)

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Oh man I realize I've not commented here yet. Though you know I loved it. 

Whew! Mycroft is gruuuuummmmmppppy. And I get why.  Poor lamb.

 I think it is very sweet how Greg just rolls with it and then gives him biscuits. Too adorable!  

[Luisa39]

I never really got into the "Sherlock" series, but this is so cute!  I love Greg's "blessings."

[AngelEyes]

Poor Mycroft. It's started already. But dear Greg. He sure knows how to brighten the day!

[cally]

On 19/03/2017 at 9:47 PM, Sophie<3 said:

I feel like Mycroft sneezing in fits is such a widely accepted headcanon amongst our people? I really adore it too, though. And Greg being such a sweetheart, and so totally unbothered by the symptoms. These two cuties, I swear.

It really is true.   Thank you for reading and commenting. 

 

On 20/03/2017 at 3:33 PM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

Whew! Mycroft is gruuuuummmmmppppy.

Well, if you feel like you've been punched in the face repeatedly, you're bound to be grumpy.  

 

On 20/03/2017 at 4:35 PM, Luisa39 said:

I never really got into the "Sherlock" series, but this is so cute!  I love Greg's "blessings."

Awww thank you!  

 

On 22/03/2017 at 3:35 AM, AngelEyes said:

Poor Mycroft. It's started already. But dear Greg. He sure knows how to brighten the day!

It has, but Greg knows how to cure all ills.  

 

Here's some brotherly love for you all.  If by love you mean being a pain in the bum.

 

76.  Mother’s Day

 

Mycroft did not want to visit his parents.  It had been a long few weeks since the resurrection of Eurus in their lives and he was tired of being made out to be the villain- despite the fact that he had played an integral role in the matter.  Both he and Sherlock believed he had paid the price.

In order to appease Mummy, and prevent them from showing up unannounced with musical theatre tickets (heaven forbid), he and Sherlock (yes, if he had to suffer so did Sherlock) were heading home for the afternoon.

Mycroft was already in a foul mood, as his hay fever was already making him quite miserable, despite the earliness of the season.  He had subsequently consumed three times the normal amount of antihistamines and a decongestant, adding to his irritable disposition and latent anxiety.

They were barely out of central London when Sherlock looked up from his mobile, his brow furrowed in a mix of worry and annoyance. 

“Did you buy Mummy a card?  John says we need a card.”

Mycroft looked up over his own mobile, eyebrows raised.  “I purchased chocolate and biscuits from Fortnum and Mason,” he said, gesturing to the bag beside him.  Flowers were out of the question, so he had to make do with expensive chocolates and confectionary. 

Sherlock typed quickly, frowning. 

“John says we still need a card."

Mycroft rolled his eyes.  “Oh for heaven’s sake!”

He supposed the former Army doctor was correct.  And besides, he didn’t want to risk any additional wrath because he had neglected to procure a card.  It would be his fault, Sherlock's presence or not.  With a sigh, he rapped on the partition and asked the driver to stop at the nearest shop.

A few moments later, the car had stopped outside a Marks and Spencer.  Mycroft moved to get out of the vehicle, but Sherlock made no attempt of his own.  “Are you coming?  This was your idea,” Mycroft grumbled.

“And you don’t need my presence to buy a card,” Sherlock countered. 

Mycroft rolled his eyes again.  “Fine,” he snapped, as he opened the door.

He quickly made his way into the store and found he did not need to waste any time locating the cards, as they were stationed immediately in front, next to the flowers.  Seemingly acres of flowers, he thought to himself.  Mycroft immediately sniffed and rubbed his nose. 

“Bugger,” he mumbled to himself, hoping he could get out of the store unscathed. 

His eyes trawled quickly over the mediocre card selection, feeling them start to water, his nostrils prickling in addition.  He sniffed again, more forcefully and rubbed his index finger under his nose.

This action did nothing to delay the inevitable, and he pinched his nostrils, stifling a sneeze.  With another sniff, he selected a card and hurriedly walked towards the checkout.

As he walked, he quickly removed his handkerchief from his pocket and pressed it to his nose, stifling a barrage of ticklish sneezes into its folds.

Heh  . . . Mmmpfx!  Mmmmmpfch! Hhnnchx! Mmmphmfp!

Not wanting to have to speak to anyone in his current state, he quickly checked out at the self-service station.  His handkerchief was pressed firmly to his nose as he attempted not to sneeze again and he blinked the allergic tears from his eyes.  He quickly paid for the item and headed towards the door.

His nostrils were itching and burning fiercely as he crossed the store, and his breath hitched as he tried to hold off the inevitable until he had made it back to his car.  Sadly for Mycroft, the irritation was too great and he violently stifled a pair of sneezes as he approached the door.

Mmmmmpfch! Hhnnchx!

Mycroft quickly crossed the pavement and collapsed dramatically into the car, sneezing viciously.

Heh’mmmpfTISH!  INGTishooo! Tishoooo! Heh’mmmmpfTISH’ish!  Heh’hi-TISSSHH!  HDSCHHhhhhooo! 

Mycroft blew his nose forcefully, trying to alleviate the irritation, but it only caused another flurry of ticklish sneezes.

Ahhh…heh…MmmpfTIGisssshh!  Mmmpftish! Mmmpftinghsh! INGTish! INGHtighish!  AhhhhTISH! 

Breathing heavily after the last barrage, Mycroft blew his nose once again, his handkerchief close to being useless.  He slumped back against the leather seat, watery eyes closed, as he attempted to regain control.

“Bless you,” Sherlock finally offered, once he was fairly sure Mycroft was done sneezing.

“Thank you, brother mine,” Mycroft said stuffily.  He sniffled, wrinkling his long nose. 

He sat like that for a moment and then opened his eyes and reached for his briefcase.  He retrieved a pen and a fresh handkerchief, before setting the case aside.  He handed the card and the pen to Sherlock, and then blotted his eyes with the cloth.  He could feel his nostrils tingling again, and quickly ducked down into the handkerchief.

Hehhh-hhhmmmpftish!  Mmmpftish! Mmmpftinghsh! INGTish! INGHtighish!  Heh’TSCHOOO!

Sherlock rolled his eyes.  “Are you done yet?”  He sounded bored.  He had scrawled his name in the card and set it down beside Mycroft.

Mycroft huffed in annoyance.  “I would not be in this condition if you could have bothered to get up out of the car.”

“I doubt it.  You’ve taken what two, no three times the normal amounts of antihistamines,” Sherlock scoffed, scrutinising Mycroft.  “You’d be a mess whether I went into the store or not.”

Mycroft opened his mouth to retort, but instead his breath hitched again and he buried his nose back within the confines of the cloth.  Sherlock rolled his eyes, muttering something about being overly dramatic as Mycroft built up into another frenzied attack.

Ah-hehhhh Aah! Hng’ISSH! Huh’mffTSChhh! Heh . . huh ING’SHHHHH! Hng’ISSH-OOO!  Heh’tish!! Heh . . . . .Heh’TSSSCHHOOO! 

The fit over, Mycroft sighed heavily as he blew his nose again.  He hoped the card was worth it.

 

 

 

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Poor Mycroft! Spring is just not his season. 

59 minutes ago, cally said:

“Did you buy Mummy a card?  John says we need a card.”

Mycroft looked up over his own mobile, eyebrows raised.  “I purchased chocolate and biscuits from Fortnum and Mason,” he said, gesturing to the bag beside him.  Flowers were out of the question, so he had to make do with expensive chocolates and confectionary. 

Sherlock typed quickly, frowning. 

“John says we still need a card."

Mycroft rolled his eyes.  “Oh for heaven’s sake!”

 

Poor Mycroft. It just is never good enough, is it? 

1 hour ago, cally said:

“Bugger,” he mumbled to himself, hoping he could get out of the store unscathed. 

 

Never going to happen my friend...  

1 hour ago, cally said:

Mycroft quickly crossed the pavement and collapsed dramatically into the car, sneezing viciously.

See what I mean? Actually, I love this image of Mycroft in full drama queen mode with his allergies.

1 hour ago, cally said:

Sherlock rolled his eyes.  “Are you done yet?”  He sounded bored.  He had scrawled his name in the card and set it down beside Mycroft.

Mycroft huffed in annoyance.  “I would not be in this condition if you could have bothered to get up out of the car.”

“I doubt it.  You’ve taken what two, no three times the normal amounts of antihistamines,” Sherlock scoffed, scrutinising Mycroft.  “You’d be a mess whether I went into the store or not.”

Nope. No sympathy from Sherlock.  

1 hour ago, cally said:

He hoped the card was worth it.

You know probably not. Just get it over with and go home to Greg. He appreciates you. 

[Shamaël]

Oh, Sherlock and Mycroft - my favorite situation!!!

On 26/03/2017 at 6:57 PM, cally said:

“Did you buy Mummy a card?  John says we need a card.”

Yes, John is right. When it comes to social matters, he's always right.

On 26/03/2017 at 6:57 PM, cally said:

It would be his fault, Sherlock's presence or not.

I have very serious issues with season 4, especially with Mummy Holmes. Poor Mycroft. Let me hug him, please.

On 26/03/2017 at 6:57 PM, cally said:

Sherlock rolled his eyes.  “Are you done yet?”  He sounded bored.  He had scrawled his name in the card and set it down beside Mycroft.

Mycroft huffed in annoyance.  “I would not be in this condition if you could have bothered to get up out of the car.”

“I doubt it.  You’ve taken what two, no three times the normal amounts of antihistamines,” Sherlock scoffed, scrutinising Mycroft.  “You’d be a mess whether I went into the store or not.”

Sometimes I just want to punch Sherlock... But he's perfectly in character here!

Good job!!!

[AngelEyes]

On 3/26/2017 at 11:57 AM, cally said:

In order to appease Mummy, and prevent them from showing up unannounced with musical theatre tickets (heaven forbid), he and Sherlock (yes, if he had to suffer so did Sherlock) were heading home for the afternoon.

LOL

 

On 3/26/2017 at 11:57 AM, cally said:

He quickly made his way into the store and found he did not need to waste any time locating the cards, as they were stationed immediately in front, next to the flowers.  Seemingly acres of flowers, he thought to himself. 

Of course they are.

 

On 3/26/2017 at 11:57 AM, cally said:

Not wanting to have to speak to anyone in his current state, he quickly checked out at the self-service station.

Thank goodness for that!

 

On 3/26/2017 at 11:57 AM, cally said:

Mycroft quickly crossed the pavement and collapsed dramatically into the car, sneezing viciously.

I can totally picture this! Drama queen! Although in this case, somewhat excusable.

 

On 3/26/2017 at 11:57 AM, cally said:

He hoped the card was worth it.

Poor Mycroft. I doubt it. But at least Sherlock will be there too.

[cally]

On 26/03/2017 at 7:02 PM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

Poor Mycroft. It just is never good enough, is it? 

Not when Mummy is concerned.

On 28/03/2017 at 10:58 AM, Aliena H. said:

Yes, John is right. When it comes to social matters, he's always right.

Yes, especially in this case!

On 30/03/2017 at 3:07 AM, AngelEyes said:

I can totally picture this! Drama queen! Although in this case, somewhat excusable.

 

He totally can't win in this situation, no matter what!

 

This next one can be seen as a continuation of #75's Biscuits.

77.  Breakfast

The remnants of a leisurely enjoyed breakfast were scattered across the kitchen table; cups and plates pushed to the side and stacked somewhat haphazardly.  Both Greg and Mycroft each had their own section of the newspaper; Greg with the sport section and Mycroft with the rest.  Greg had his propped up against the cafetière and he was scrutinising an article as he finished the rest of his toast.

Mycroft had a section of the paper in front of him, the remainder neatly stacked to his left, next to his mobile.  On his plate was the detritus of his own breakfast along with a considerable pile of soggy tissues.  A fresh tissue was in Mycroft’s left hand and he occasionally dabbed at his pink-tinged nostrils with it.

Mycroft had been reading the same sentence over and over for at least ten minutes.  He was having a rather difficult time focusing.  His eyes were itchy and irritated and it was all he could do to keep from rubbing at them constantly.  His nose was no better off; the appendage was an annoying mixture of being stuffy, drippy and itchy, all seemingly at the same time.

His nose was prickling intensely again and he tried his best to ignore it.  He was quite done with the constant sniffling and sneezing.  He wrinkled his nose and focused more intently on the article in the paper, doing his best to avoid the inevitable. 

Mycroft was able to hold off for another minute, before he succumbed.  As he had held back for so long, the sneeze was violent and soaked the tissue that he quickly pressed to his nose. 

HahTCH’SHOOOO!

Greg looked up with a start. “Bless you,” he said.

Mycroft just shook his head and reached for the tissues as he continued to sneeze.  He plucked the last handful from the box.

Heh’TSSSCHH! Hng’ISSH-OOO!  Heh’tish! Tish! Heh . . . . .Heh’TSSSCHHOOO! 

Greg waited for a moment after the last sneeze.  “Bless you again,” he offered.

“Thank you,” Mycroft said, his voice nasal and congested.   He attempted to blow his nose and then sighed.  “I’m out of tissues,” he mumbled.  “Again,” he added as an unnecessary afterthought.  He looked a combination of resigned and depressed at his fate.

Greg grinned at him, almost cheekily.  “Well it’s a good thing I bought all of those boxes, innit?” He rose from the table, tossing the paper aside.  He pulled one of Mycroft’s softer handkerchiefs from his pocket and handed it to his partner.  “Here, this should do you for now.”

As always, Mycroft was touched by Greg’s thoughtfulness and consideration.  He smiled softly in return.

Greg began to clean up the place settings, humming to himself.  “Do you want some more tea, love?” His back was turned to Mycroft as he rinsed off some dishes, so he was unaware of Mycroft’s current predicament.

When Mycroft didn’t respond, Greg turned around to inquire again.  He found the younger man blinking rapidly, nostrils flaring as he waited for a particularly ticklish sneeze to finally emerge.  Greg frowned.  He hated to see Mycroft suffer so much.

Mycroft finally took a reedy, hitching breath and sneezed, grateful for the soft cloth Greg had provided.  He could feel his eyes watering from the force and from the irritation.

Heh . . . . . HahTCH’SHOOOO! Heh’tish! Heh’tish! Heh’TSCHOOO! Huh’Ishooooo! Heh…heh’ETCHOO!

“God bless you, love,” Greg said. 

Mycroft looked up from the depths of the handkerchief pressed to his nose, his blue eyes filled with allergic tears.  “Thank you, my dear.  My apologies.” 

Greg moved closer so that he was standing in front of Mycroft.  He bent down and kissed his lover on the top of his head, caressing his jaw line gently, making sure to avoid Mycroft’s sinus passages.    

“I’ll put the kettle on and then I’ll grab you another box of tissues, ok?”

Mycroft nodded as he dabbed gently at his nose.  “Thank you, Gregory.  It is most appreciated.”  He inwardly cringed at his choice of words.  He really wanted to convey how much he appreciated Greg’s kindness and care when he was feeling like a horrific allergic mess, but for some reason was unable to find the right words.  He quickly reached out and took Greg’s hand and squeezed it.

Greg grinned and squeezed back.  “I love you too.”

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Aww... 

"Mycroft nodded as he dabbed gently at his nose.  “Thank you, Gregory.  It is most appreciated.”  He inwardly cringed at his choice of words.  He really wanted to convey how much he appreciated Greg’s kindness and care when he was feeling like a horrific allergic mess, but for some reason was unable to find the right words.  He quickly reached out and took Greg’s hand and squeezed it."

So, so sweet and fluffy!

And Greg knows. He definitely knows. 

@Juto Fluff alert!! 

(Of course if it were my Greg he would have taken the damn newspaper away too.  Just saying.  )

[AngelEyes]

On 4/9/2017 at 3:26 PM, cally said:

“I’m out of tissues,” he mumbled.  “Again,” he added as an unnecessary afterthought.  He looked a combination of resigned and depressed at his fate.

Awwww. So sad. He needs hugs.

 

On 4/9/2017 at 3:42 PM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

(Of course if it were my Greg he would have taken the damn newspaper away too.  Just saying.  )

LOL! @Sanguine Cheerful Worrier!

[Shamaël]

Even without the Mystrade aspect, this drabble was a really good fetish-story...  Some of my favorite lines:

On 09/04/2017 at 10:26 PM, cally said:

His nose was no better off; the appendage was an annoying mixture of being stuffy, drippy and itchy, all seemingly at the same time.

 

On 09/04/2017 at 10:26 PM, cally said:

“I’m out of tissues,” he mumbled.  “Again,” he added as an unnecessary afterthought.  He looked a combination of resigned and depressed at his fate.

 

On 09/04/2017 at 10:26 PM, cally said:

He found the younger man blinking rapidly, nostrils flaring as he waited for a particularly ticklish sneeze to finally emerge.

And, of course, the best part, because it's so Mycroft!!!

On 09/04/2017 at 10:26 PM, cally said:

“Thank you, Gregory.  It is most appreciated.”  He inwardly cringed at his choice of words.

 

[cally]

On 09/04/2017 at 9:42 PM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

And Greg knows. He definitely knows.

Yes, yes he does.  

On 11/04/2017 at 5:49 AM, AngelEyes said:

Awwww. So sad. He needs hugs.

He really, really does.  

On 12/04/2017 at 2:27 PM, Aliena H. said:

Even without the Mystrade aspect, this drabble was a really good fetish-story...

Thank you.  

 

Wow, it's been forever since I've posted anything, mainly because I start 4 different things and then never finish them.  I seem to flit from one thing to the other and never make any headway.  I've finally finished this one, which was started immediately after the previous drabble.  @Sanguine Cheerful Worrier and I had a giggle over making this a series of a day in the life of Mycroft Holmes and seeing we've already had breakfast, let's move on to the early afternoon.  Not sure how many parts this will have but it will have this one and another one, perhaps one to follow that?

78.  Shopping (or Part 2 of a day in the life of Mycroft Holmes)

“So,” Greg began, “Are you still up for shopping?”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow.  “I am not an invalid, Gregory."

Greg sighed.  “I know, love.  I just didn’t want to push,” he said.

“I will be ready to leave in about ten minutes, if that suffices.”

“Sure, I’ll just finish up here,” Greg stated, gesturing to the kitchen.

Mycroft turned and headed out of the kitchen toward the stairs, sneezing as he went.

“Bless you,” Greg called out after him, but Mycroft didn’t reply.

Mycroft made his way upstairs.  He went into the en suite and regarded his appearance in the mirror and frowned.  His nose was quite red and inflamed.  He thought about covering it up slightly, but in the end decided against it.  He snatched up a tissue from the box on the counter and blew his nose with a resigned sigh.  He swallowed a second antihistamine and made sure his pockets contained an extra handkerchief and a packet of tissues.  Smoothing his hair down, he left the en suite, retrieved his jacket, and headed back downstairs where Greg was waiting.

They left the townhouse to a gorgeous spring day; the sun was shining brightly in a delightfully blue sky, nary a cloud in sight.  Mycroft had exited their home first with Greg following behind.  He nearly jumped when Greg sneezed loudly behind him.

Heh’DZSCHOOOOO! 

Mycroft turned around quickly to see Greg quickly pulling his sunglasses off his head and over his eyes.  “Bless you, dear,” he offered.

“Thanks,” Greg said with a laugh.  “Sorry, I startled you. I should have put them on before I left,” he added. 

 

 

When they arrived at the tailor, Greg was not surprised to find that a suit had already been earmarked for him.  It was a dark charcoal with a deeply woven pattern that was only visible when close up.  Greg wondered idly if the colour was due to his line of work and it was highly unlikely that dirt or debris would show on such a shade.  He admired the cut in the mirror and struck a pose before he allowed Mycroft a peek. 

With a faint sniff, Mycroft crossed his arms and scrutinised Greg’s appearance.  He was glad that the tailor had been able to complete this on time and it looked that there would only need to be superficial adjustments made.  

“Excellent.  I shall have Henri make the necessary adjustments.”

Greg frowned.  “It looks fine, doesn’t it?”  He looked himself over in the mirror again.

Mycroft pursed his lips, trying to ignore the pricking within his sinuses.  “The length needs to be adjusted a millimetre or so.”

Greg fought the desire to roll his eyes.  “Whatever you say, Myc.  I’ll go get changed.”

Greg headed back into the changing room and was surprised when Mycroft followed him in, closing the door behind him.  “I didn’t know you had it in you,” Greg baited, winking at his partner.

Mycroft scowled, which quickly dissipated as his eyes fluttered closed.  He stifled the outburst as quietly as he could.

Heh  . . . Mmmpfx!  Mmmmmpfch! Hhnnchx! Mmmphmfp!

“Bless you,” Greg said as he hung the suit jacket back on its hanger.  That solved the mystery of Mycroft following him in, he thought to himself. 

“Thank you,” Mycroft said faintly, leaning against the wall.  He had removed his handkerchief and was gently dabbing at his nose.

Once the suit had been hung up and handed over to the capable Henri,

Greg decided he would have a gander at the accessories and headed over to where the ties were stationed, Mycroft following.  He looked at a few contenders, and then pulled out a red tie and held it up towards the younger man.  Mycroft was confused at first, but finally deduced what Greg was insinuating.  He gave the DI an icy glare. 

“Must you be so childish,” Mycroft hissed in a tone that was usually reserved for Sherlock.

“Aww, come on Rudolph,” Greg teased.

Mycroft levelled a hard, cold stare at his partner.  Greg backed away, his hands held up in surrender and returned his gaze to the ties in front of him.

Mycroft huffed out a sigh in his annoyance, which caused him to sneeze viciously.

Heh . . . . . HahTCH’SHOOOO!

Greg looked up, an apprehensive look on his face, feeling as if he had caused the younger man’s nasal disturbance.  “God bless you,” Greg said worriedly.

Mycroft, his hand pinching down on his nostrils now, turned away.  “Excuse me,” he murmured, and walked away towards the rest room, painfully stifling several sneezes as he did so.

Once alone, Mycroft blew his nose vigorously, hoping to not start off another fit.  His handkerchief was completely sodden and useless, and he tucked it back into his pocket.  He washed his hands and regarded his appearance in the mirror.  Greg was right; he certainly looked like a red-nosed reindeer. 

He took a moment to regain his composure and decided what was good for the goose was good for the gander.  With a secret smile, he made his way back to Greg.

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

 I really shouldn't laugh, but we do have a lot of fun at Mycroft's expense.   

7 minutes ago, cally said:

Greg decided he would have a gander at the accessories and headed over to where the ties were stationed, Mycroft following.  He looked at a few contenders, and then pulled out a red tie and held it up towards the younger man.  Mycroft was confused at first, but finally deduced what Greg was insinuating.  He gave the DI an icy glare. 

 

“Must you be so childish,” Mycroft hissed in a tone that was usually reserved for Sherlock.

 

“Aww, come on Rudolph,” Greg teased.

 

Mycroft levelled a hard, cold stare at his partner.  Greg backed away, his hands held up in surrender and returned his gaze to the ties in front of him.

 

This was just plain evil. But really funny too.  I can't wait to see what revenge gets cooked up by Myc. 

[Shamaël]

Awww poor Mycroft!

On 07/05/2017 at 11:29 PM, cally said:

With a secret smile, he made his way back to Greg.

???!!!??? Okay, I can't wait to read the next part!

[tenderwarrior]

While I only watch Sherlock casually, I really love these! I love the softness and tenderness of their relationship. Maybe dog allergies at some point? It's totally fine if you don't! Thank you so much for writing these!

[AngelEyes]

On 5/7/2017 at 4:29 PM, cally said:

Mycroft turned around quickly to see Greg quickly pulling his sunglasses off his head and over his eyes.  “Bless you, dear,” he offered.

 

 

“Thanks,” Greg said with a laugh.  “Sorry, I startled you. I should have put them on before I left,” he added. 

LOL

 

On 5/7/2017 at 4:29 PM, cally said:

Mycroft pursed his lips, trying to ignore the pricking within his sinuses.  “The length needs to be adjusted a millimetre or so.”

Oh Mycroft!

 

On 5/7/2017 at 4:29 PM, cally said:

“Must you be so childish,” Mycroft hissed in a tone that was usually reserved for Sherlock.

 

 

“Aww, come on Rudolph,” Greg teased.

Greg! Poor Mycroft! LOL!

 

On 5/7/2017 at 4:29 PM, cally said:

With a secret smile, he made his way back to Greg.

Oooh! Just what does he have in mind?

[cally]

Wow, it's been some time since I've written and posted.  I'm still working on the above bits and some other things, but I've been distracted/busy/unmotivated/doing other things so. . . . hopefully I can get back to it soon.  Thanks for all your comments and support and private messages.  

 I read this article in the news yesterday and it was just begging to be written.

http://www.independent.co.uk/life-style/hayfever-gin-tonics-vodka-spirits-sooth-symptoms-allergies-histamines-sulphates-asthma-uk-study-a7800216.html?cmpid=facebook-post

 

79.  Gin

Detective Inspector Lestrade arrived home after a long, arduous day filled with paperwork.  He was tired and wanted nothing more than an ice-cold beer and something mindless on the telly.  He let himself in to the townhouse and was surprised to find Mycroft’s umbrella in its stand.  His partner had been spending long hours at work recently what with the snap general election results and recent terrorist activity.   He heard a noise coming from the kitchen and followed the sound to investigate.

Mycroft had the freezer door open and appeared to be wrestling with an ice cube tray.  Greg watched in silent amusement.  Suddenly, Mycroft inhaled sharply and turned to the side, sneezing viciously.  The ice cubes tumbled to the floor.

Heh . . . . . HahTCH’SHOOOO!  Huh’Ishooooo!

“Bugger,” Mycroft mumbled, sniffling damply and rubbing at his nose with his wrist.  And then, to Greg’s surprise, the younger man giggled.

“Bless you,” Greg said, crossing the room towards Mycroft.

Mycroft startled and quickly turned around.  “Gregory.  Good evening,” he said.  “I appear to have dropped the ice,” he added unnecessarily before giggling again.

Greg took in his lover’s appearance in an appreciative manner.  Mycroft had removed his suit jacket and rolled up the sleeves of his pristine, white dress shirt, revealing his lightly freckled forearms.  His tie had been removed but his waistcoat was still neatly buttoned.  His eyes were bright and alert, but his cheeks were slightly flushed and he wore a bemused expression.  Greg then noticed the bottle of gin on the counter, next to a bottle of tonic and the remnants of a lime. 

“You’re drunk.” Greg grinned at his partner and began to pick up the ice cubes, tossing them into the sink.

Mycroft smoothed down his waistcoat.  “I am not inebriated,” he replied incredulously.  A soft hiccup followed his statement and Greg raised an eyebrow.

“Sure you’re not, love.”  Greg smiled at his lover and removed another ice cube tray from the freezer.  He began to make himself and Mycroft each a drink, although he wasn’t sure that Mycroft needed another.

Mycroft leaned against the counter and watched Greg slice a lime and pour the clear liquid into two glasses.   He sniffed softly and slipped his hand into his pocket for his rather overused handkerchief.  He pulled a face at the damp cloth but dabbed at his nose with it anyway.

Greg finished fixing the drinks and handed one to Mycroft.  He took a sip of his before speaking.  “Gin isn’t usually your choice of beverage.”  He paused a moment and then continued.  “Not that I’m complaining,” he said, enjoying the crisp juniper and how it complimented the lime.  It wasn’t a cold beer, but was refreshing all the same.

Mycroft had also taken a sip of his drink; the effervescent bubbles from the tonic popped and fizzed, irritating his already inflamed nasal passages.  He put his drink down on the counter and turned away, sneezing harshly.

Heh’TISSSHHooo! Heh’TISSSHH! Heh . . . . . HahTCH’SHOOOO!  Huh’Ishooooo! Heh’tish! Heh . . . . .Heh’TSSSCHHOOO! 

Greg quickly fetched the box of tissues from the counter, pulled out a handful and handed them to Mycroft.   “Bless you, love.”

Mycroft took a minute and then several handfuls of tissues later, had finally composed himself.  “Thank you, my dear.  Apologies.”

He didn’t speak for a moment; instead he seemed to glare at his beverage, the ice melting, clinking in the glass.  Finally he spoke, his shoulders slumping in defeat.  “It is not working.”

Greg frowned, puzzled.  “I’m sorry?”  He obviously had no idea what Mycroft was on about.

Before Mycroft could explain, his nostrils flared and he snatched up another handful of tissues, sneezing into their folds.  He was so tired of sneezing he didn’t bother to restrain himself at this point in the day.

Heh’TSSSCHH! hih’TSHOOO! Heh’TSCHOOO! Heh…heh’ETCHOOO!

“God bless you, love.”  Greg reached over and squeezed Mycroft’s hand, offering as much comfort as he could in the gesture. 

Mycroft cleared his throat.  “Thank you, Gregory.  Again, my apologies,” he sniffed, rubbing at his nose with the balled up tissues.

Greg squeezed his hand again.  “You were saying?”

“Ah yes,” Mycroft laughed in a bittersweet manner for a second and then continued on.  “There was an article in the newspaper today that implied that drinking a gin and tonic could alleviate the symptoms of hay fever.”  The civil servant glared at his drink before taking another sip.  “It was clearly fake news.”  His voice seethed with contempt.

There was nothing else he could do or say.  Greg merely burst out laughing in response, his eyes quickly filling with tears of mirth.  Mycroft glared at him for some time, but once Greg had wiped the tears from his eyes, he could have sworn he saw the corners of Mycroft’s mouth twitch just a smidgeon.

 

 

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

59 minutes ago, cally said:

“There was an article in the newspaper today that implied that drinking a gin and tonic could alleviate the symptoms of hay fever.”  The civil servant glared at his drink before taking another sip.  “It was clearly fake news.”  His voice seethed with contempt.

This bit had me laughing out loud along with Greg. I think Mycroft is desperate enough to believe any snake oil salesman. Well, there are worse home remedies that don't work. 

 

Nice to see you back.  

[Shamaël]

This was hilarious!!!  "It's not working"... And the fact that the idea comes from a "real" article maked the whole thing even more funny (or funnier?!? I'm afraid I can't choose between those two forms). Poor, poor Mycroft, really. Good job!

[AngelEyes]

This is hysterical. I love it! Tipsy!Mycroft is great!

[cally]

On 29/06/2017 at 0:06 PM, Sanguine Cheerful Worrier said:

This bit had me laughing out loud along with Greg. I think Mycroft is desperate enough to believe any snake oil salesman. Well, there are worse home remedies that don't work

The fake news bit came to me and I just had to use it.

On 10/07/2017 at 5:46 PM, Aliena H. said:

This was hilarious!!!  "It's not working"... And the fact that the idea comes from a "real" article maked the whole thing even more funny (or funnier?!? I'm afraid I can't choose between those two forms). Poor, poor Mycroft, really. Good job!

As soon as I saw the article, I knew it was begging to be written!

On 12/07/2017 at 6:11 AM, AngelEyes said:

This is hysterical. I love it! Tipsy!Mycroft is great!

Tipsy!Mycroft was fun to write!  

 

I've been struggling to write (well to do much of anything lately).  It's not that I don't have ideas or even bits and pieces started.  I just can't seem to get motivated to finish.  There are a multitude of reasons, which I won't bore you with at this time as 90% of them aren't relevant to the forum or writing at all.  However, I was able to start and finish this so. . . 

 

80. Victoria Sponge

 

From the outset, Mycroft was having a miserable day.  His morning fit went on for nearly five minutes, to the point that he felt he needed another hour in bed once he was finished.  Of course he didn’t go back to bed, but in hindsight he wished that he had.

It was now nearly evening and the British government was tired and drained.  He’d briefly been into the office, but it seemed even innocuous things were setting him off, so Anthea had sent him back home.

Mycroft had been reading the same page over and over for several minutes when he hard the front door open and close, signalling Greg’s arrival home.  There was quiet after that, so Mycroft returned to his reading material, rubbing unconsciously at his eye.

When he looked up a few minutes later, he found Greg had entered the room, carrying a tray, a canvas carrier bag over his shoulder.

“Good evening, Gregory,” Mycroft intoned, trying (and failing) to keep the congestion from his voice.

“Hiya love.”  Greg thought that Mycroft sounded stuffier than he had earlier in the day.  That certainly wasn’t a good sign.  He was glad he had purchased reinforcements.  “I come bearing gifts,” he added, placing the tray down on the coffee table.

Mycroft peered at the tray, specifically at the empty plate that was sitting there.  He looked up at Greg, an eyebrow raised in question.  His countenance quickly crumpled as he turned away, succumbing to a quartet of increasingly damp sounding sneezes.

Heh’TSSSCHH! Heh’hi-TISSSHH!  Huh’mffTSChhh! Heh . . . . . HahTCH’SHOOOO!

“Bless you,” Greg said, biting the inside of his cheek.  Mycroft really didn’t sound any better than this morning, and if anything he sounded worse.  At least he’d stopped stifling, probably due to the congestion.  He removed a box of tissues from the bag and handed it over to Mycroft. 

“Thank you,” Mycroft replied as he opened the box.  He pulled out a handful of tissues and blew his nose.

Next, Greg removed a small plastic container from the bag.  He opened it and placed its contents on the plate.

Mycroft’s eyes widened at the offering; a piece of Victoria Sponge from Whole Foods.  The DI had discovered Mycroft’s penchant for the confectionary some time ago on a trip to the aforementioned grocery store.  He had watched with amusement as Mycroft’s eyes had become large as saucers (much as they had done now) when he had encountered the cake in the refrigerated to-go section.

Mycroft tossed his tissues to the side.  His mouth was watering and his stomach growling at the sight of the cake as he hadn’t bothered with lunch.  Before he reached for the slice before him, Mycroft pursed his lips and thought for a moment. 

Greg didn’t like to venture to Whole Foods as a general rule.  He much preferred the more convenient and accessible Marks and Spencer or Waitrose if he was catering to Mycroft’s whims, given the parking was a nightmare at Whole Foods.  So, why had he done so today?  What was the catch and what else was in the carrier bag, he wondered.

Aloud, he said, “What is the occasion?”

Greg raised both eyebrows in a mixture of surprise and confusion.  “Can’t I bring you something nice without the third degree?”

Mycroft look affronted at the comment.  “Of course you can, my dear.  I was merely trying to ascertain why you went out of your way for this,” he said gesturing towards the plate.  Mycroft looked back up at his partner, who suddenly looked apprehensive.

It didn’t take Mycroft (or Sherlock Holmes for that matter) to figure out that whatever the issue was, it resided in the bag that still hung from the DI’s shoulder.  “What is in the bag, Gregory?” He tried to come off as curious, but sounded more demanding instead.

Greg winced, knowing that it was nearly impossible to outwit or distract a Holmes.  With a heavy sigh, he came around the coffee table to sit down beside Mycroft.  “Anthea called me,” he began, fidgeting with the handle of the bag.  “And I knew you weren’t feeling well to begin with, so . . .” His voice trailed off nervously at the end, not knowing how to bring this up.  He had tried once before and the idea was dismissed.

Mycroft opened his mouth to reply, but instead of asking once again what was in the bloody bag, he muttered a quick “Excuse me,” and grabbed for the tissues in front of him.  He gasped out a heady breath, sneezing viciously.

Heh…heh’ETCHOO! Heh’TISSSHHooo! Heh’INGTISH! Heh’TISSSHH!

“Bless you, love.”

“Thank you,” Mycroft murmured, snuffling into his tissues.  It took him another moment to compose himself and then he turned his blue eyes on Greg, giving him an inquiring look.

Greg sighed, prepared for an argument.  “Here,” he said, handing over the bag.

Mycroft opened the bag and pulled out the remaining item, putting the bag to the side.  He stared at it, an incredulous and confused look on his face.  “I was under the impression that this was . . . . non-negotiable.” He sounded exasperated, disgusted.  Mycroft placed the item on the coffee table and pushed it away, as if he wanted to remove its presence from the room. 

Greg sighed and ran a hand across his face.  He leaned back against the sofa, defeated.  He was so tired of watching Mycroft suffer and feel miserable.  He had researched various medications and sprays, had a contact in America send lotion infused tissues, and made more cups of tea than most Bobby’s on the beat had had hot dinners.  This was the last thing, the one thing that Mycroft refused to try.

Mycroft watched the range of emotions cross Greg’s face.  He finally had to look away.  It wasn’t that it was too intimate or too powerful; it was the shame that Mycroft felt.  He hated being such a burden in this manner.  He despised it more than the allergies themselves.  He began to deliberate as to what exactly he was going to do now.

They sat in silence for a several moments.  Finally, Mycroft spoke.  “May I at least eat this cake first?”

Greg chuckled.  “Of course.  You don’t have to use it now, or even today.  Just consider it, please.”  He paused a moment.  “For me?” He added, his brown eyes pleading.

Mycroft nodded, as if he could refuse Greg and his puppy-dog eyes look.  “Very well.”  He reached over and picked up the plate and fork.  Before he took a first bite, he looked over at his partner again, worried.  “There is an instruction manual, correct?”

 

 

The item in question, which looked far more intimidating in Whole Foods, tbh.

 

 

 

 

 

 

[Kaze Wo Hiku]

Quote

 

I've been struggling to write (well to do much of anything lately).  It's not that I don't have ideas or even bits and pieces started.  I just can't seem to get motivated to finish

God this is me right now. I've been promising @Sanguine Cheerful Worrier something for months and still haven't delievered.

This was adorable, Greg you know how to butter up Mycroft. The instructions manual part made me giggle. I do enjoy when the British government is miserable

[Subtly Clashing Wishes]

Poor Mycroft, he is completely miserable with his allergies. Sweet Greg to bring his boyfriend a piece of cake... and other things...  Seriously I think Mycroft should hold out for an entire cake. That sucker looks horrific and, well, weirdly phallic. My first thought was this some strange sex toy.  

@Kaze wo Hiku No worries. To paraphrase Ryder Smith from Where The Boys Are, Brown (wo)men are above all patient.  

[Red]

These are so great! I couldn't stop reading! I'm totally in love with you Mystrade stories, they are perfect! 

[AngelEyes]

Poor Mycroft. I love how nervous Greg is about the "item". And Mycroft attempting to give in but demanding the cake first! Love! and @Sanguine Cheerful Worrier It definitely looks phallic! My first thought! LOL!